


Forget Me Not

by pann_cake



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, FCW - Freeform, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pann_cake/pseuds/pann_cake
Summary: “You look how I feel,” Seth put in, wanting to break the quiet. He knew Dean was still pissed about losing in the end, why else would he be punching lockers.Dean huffed and looked up from his knees, a crooked but tired grin on his face. “Like fuckin’ hell?” he asked, and Seth just nodded. Dean chuckled a little and shook his head. “We done good though.”“Yeah. I’d like to never do that again,” Seth deadpanned, but Dean just smirked at him like he knew he was lying.“I ain’t done with you, pretty boy” Dean told him with a light laugh. “You got lucky.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Could you promise me something if you find someone?  
> That you'll forget me not  
> Never feel too much  
> Even if they do all the things that I couldn't do for you.  
>  -["Forget Me Not," by Brian Fallon](https://youtu.be/1jf4qiIs2AU)

The match was brutal. Neither of them had wrestled for over thirty minutes straight before, and Seth had literally nothing left in the tank at the end of it. But he’d retained, somehow, by luck and sheer force of will. He’d finally managed to get one over on Dean Ambrose, so it was worth the pain his body was in. He was on the floor in a corner of the locker room, pretty sure that everyone had already gone home, trying to summon the drive to move again. His eyes were closed, his head back against the wall when he heard a loud bang. 

He looked up to see none other than Dean Ambrose, who’d stormed into the locker room and slammed the door behind him. He didn’t see Seth, he just started pacing around the room like a caged animal, all pent up energy and aggression. Seth didn’t know how he was even still standing, honestly. There was another bang as Dean’s fist collided with the lockers, and Seth poked his head further around the corner where he was sitting.

“Dude,” he called out, and Dean turned to glare at him. Then Dean saw it was him, and something in that glare softened, just a bit. At least it seemed that way to Seth. Dean came over to him and flopped down on the floor, back against the wall across from Seth. His knees were up and he rested his forehead against his kneecaps, finally looking spent of all that energy. Maybe it was because Seth was the one who’d gone through that war with him, but Dean’s guards came down, just for that moment. 

“You look how I feel,” Seth put in, wanting to break the quiet. He knew Dean was still pissed about losing in the end, why else would he be punching lockers. 

Dean huffed and looked up from his knees, a crooked but tired grin on his face. “Like fuckin’ hell?” he asked, and Seth just nodded. Dean chuckled a little and shook his head. “We done good though.”

“Yeah. I’d like to never do that again,” Seth deadpanned, but Dean just smirked at him like he knew he was lying. 

“I ain’t done with you, pretty boy” Dean told him with a light laugh. “You got lucky.” 

It might have actually been threatening if he didn’t look so utterly exhausted, like every bone in his body was aching. Seth knew the feeling. That was why, when Dean lowered his knees and flopped his legs down across Seth’s, he flinched a little. 

“Big baby,” Dean taunted quietly, but there was no real malice behind it. Seth watched him as Dean leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, an exact mirror of what Seth had been doing before Dean came barging in. 

They sat there in silence for a while, Dean’s legs a heavy weight on top of Seth’s, just catching their breaths and trying not to move. Eventually Seth nudged Dean’s legs in attempt to get him off him. “I’m gonna go home and sleep for a fucking week.”

Dean just grunted a little at being jostled, not even opening his eyes. “Might just stay here.”

Seth paused in the middle of getting up. “You sleep here?” He’d actually heard some rumors about this, that a few people had seen Dean sleeping around the arena or the performance center, but nobody asked him what he was doing. They just figured he had a few rough nights out and ended up there. Now, Seth was starting to wonder. 

Dean just shrugged, so Seth pressed him. “You got a place?”

“Of course I have a place,” he spat back, finally cracking his eyes open. “It’s just a fucking shit hole. I got an eviction on my record, can’t get nothing better.”

Seth nodded, once, then reached down to slap at Dean’s boots. “Get up,” he said, and when Dean just quirked an eyebrow at him Seth kicked his booths harder. “Get _up_. You’re not staying here on the floor, not after that match. You won’t be able to move in the morning.”

“You tryin’ to take me home, Rollins?” he leered, and Seth rolled his eyes. 

“Not like _that_. If you’d rather sleep on a concrete floor, be my guest.”

Dean just looked up at him for a few long moments, as if trying to decide if Seth was being sincere or not. Then, finally, he heaved a sigh and pushed himself up off the floor. Seth didn’t say anything else, not wanting to make things weird. They got dressed in silence, then Seth led them outside to his car. 

“Wow,” Ambrose said with a low whistle. “Your car’s a piece of shit.”

He wasn’t wrong, so Seth just shrugged. “It runs, so.” He had to slam his fist on the console to get it to turn on, but it did, and once it was moving the car sounded slightly less rickety. Dean had his head against the window, and it was weird to see him so quiet. 

When he parked, Ambrose didn’t stir so Seth cleared his throat, thinking he’d fallen asleep. He had to reach over and shake him, then Dean startled awake and looked around as if surprised to find himself there. They got inside, and Seth knew his little apartment wasn’t much to look at. He was usually home just long enough to make a bit of a mess, then he was off again, to the gym, to the arena. It was really just a place to hold his shit, and it only got cleaned properly when his mother visited. 

It didn’t seem to phase Dean, and Seth had to wonder what kind of place he was living in. Dean went over and flopped down onto the futon, then groaned. Seth knew the feeling, the mattress of the thing was so thin you could feel the metal bars under it. Even when it was up as a couch, it wasn't any more comfortable. Dean didn’t say anything, though, he just opened up the pizza box on the table in front of him and stole a piece. 

“Dude, that’s like a day old,” Seth pointed out, watching him. Dean just shrugged and kept chewing. “Alright. I’m gonna take a shower.”

It felt a little weird, leaving Dean Ambrose alone in his apartment. But the hot shower felt so exquisite that Seth forgot about the strangeness of the night for a bit. It was heaven on his sore muscles, and he stayed in there a long time, until the hot water ran out. He came back out in his boxers and a band tee, finding Ambrose snoring lightly with his neck cricked back against the back of the futon. He’d fallen asleep before Seth could even suggest pulling it out to the bed. Well, at least it was better than sleeping on a locker room floor. 

Seth threw himself face down onto his bed and pillows, and was immediately asleep. He didn’t stir until, blearily, he realized that someone was in his room, climbing into his bed. In the pitch-blackness and his sleep addled state, he just managed to croak out, “Dean?”

Dean was pushing at Seth’s limp body, rolling him over in the bed, and Seth was so exhausted, and still only partially awake, that he couldn’t even protest. “Your futon sucks,” Dean muttered, and part of Seth was aware of that fact. He’d fallen asleep on it when his body wasn’t already sore from an ironman match and regretted it. So it made sense in some part of his brain that Dean was climbing into bed with him. The movement next to him went still as Dean finally settled in, and Seth fell back asleep as if nothing had happened. 

He woke up to Dean nearly spooning him, and Seth’s eyes snapped open. Dean was curled next to him, their legs were tangled together and Dean was on Seth’s pillow. Seth gently pried himself away and slipped off the bed, desperately trying not to wake him. Then he tripped over the clothes he’d left lying on the floor and nearly face-planted, and the sound of soft chuckling came from behind him. Seth grimaced, running his hands through his sleep-wild hair before turning around. 

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty,” Dean drawled. From Seth’s bed. It was the most surreal moment of his life. 

“I’m gonna go work out,” Seth said, hitching a thumb over his shoulder to gesture that he was leaving. 

Dean groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Ugh, you’re a morning person,” he complained. “Alright, I’ll get outta your hair.”

For just a moment, Seth almost invited him along to the gym with him. But Dean was already shambling around, looking for the shirt he’d left somewhere on Seth’s floor the night before since there was no air conditioning. Seth was just watching him, wondering what the hell Dean Ambrose does on a regular day. 

“Thanks for letting me crash,” Dean said, turning to leave Seth’s room and head for the door. Seth followed after him, shaken out of his daze. 

“No problem,” he said. “The spare key’s under the mat, if you’re ever, like, in a jam or something.”

Ambrose just looked at him, like he was something he was trying to puzzle out, and Seth shuffled a little awkwardly on his bare feet. Why did he offer his apartment to Dean Ambrose, of all people? He must be losing his mind, the match must have knocked a few screws loose. 

Dean didn’t reply to the offer, and after a few long, awkward moments, he just said, “Alright, see ya,” and left.

Seth was left staring at the closed door behind him, wondering what the hell his world was coming to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he wasn’t in the middle of his reps, he would have rolled his eyes at himself. It wasn’t like he didn’t have other rivalries, other guys who wanted a piece of him, wanted to come after his title. So why did his mind keep circling around Dean Ambrose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea behind this chapter is based on a story Dean told on Ride Along about his eviction/living situation during his FCW days, I just decided to run with it. This chapter is a bit shorter, but I hope to have the next one up soon.

Seth didn’t know why it kept bugging him. He had barely even seen much of Ambrose lately--since their ironman match, the score was settled, for now. They both had other things to do in the ring, the momentum was moving on, away from their rivalry. Though Seth had to admit, part of him thought that it would never be over, this thing between them. But it fizzled, after that big match, and Seth couldn’t help feeling a little _lost_ without it. 

If he wasn’t in the middle of his reps, he would have rolled his eyes at himself. It wasn’t like he didn’t have other rivalries, other guys who wanted a piece of him, wanted to come after his title. So why did his mind keep circling around Dean Ambrose? That night kept coming back to him--that _morning_ , when he’d woken up with Dean’s leg shoved between his own and Dean’s arm around his waist. He jumped down from the bars and shook his head to get the sweat out of his eyes and try to clear his thoughts. He grabbed his water bottle and took a long swig, closing his eyes as he tipped his head back, letting his muscles cool down from the burn. 

When he looked back up, Dean was standing right in front of him. “Hey--”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” Dean spat, fire in his eyes, and Seth had no idea what he was talking about. He stood there gaping at him until Dean plowed ahead. “I don’t need you butting into my business.”

Oh. That. Seth took a breath, realizing that asking around the locker room to see if anyone had a room Dean could rent was probably overstepping his bounds. But he hadn’t been able to get Dean’s voice out of his head, the words _eviction_ and _shit hole_ ringing in his thoughts long after Dean had left that morning.

“Look man, I was just asking around, I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Seth’s voice was even, trying to keep things calm even though Dean was inching closer and closer and looking like he might punch him in the mouth. 

“I don’t need people knowing my shit, alright?” Dean said, though the fact that he was arguing with Seth in a gym surrounded by the wrestlers and trainers they worked with every day seemed to be lost on him. “Just because I crashed on your couch--”

“My _bed_ ,” Seth interrupted. “You crashed _in my bed_.”

“--that doesn’t make us friends!”

Seth huffed, running a hand back through his hair, frizzy from his workout and coming out of the bun he’d had it up in. “I’m not trying to be your friend,” he pointed out. “I was just trying to help.”

“Well I don’t need your help.” Dean was right up in his face now, and Seth was very aware of the fact that the people around them had stopped what they were doing to watch this unfold. “The only thing I need or want from you, Rollins, is your championship.”

Seth raised his chin, defiant. Of course it came down to this, the championship. It seemed to be the only language Dean was capable of speaking. “Any time, anywhere, Ambrose,” he told him, his jaw tight. 

Dean smirked a little, then punched Seth, hard, in the shoulder. “I’m gonna hold you to that.” Then he spun on his heel and stalked away. Seth’s heart was pounding, his mind clouded with red, telling himself that that was the last time he tried to do anything nice for anyone around here. 

Word got around about their little spat in the gym, and by the time Seth found himself backstage for the show that night, he’d worked himself into a mood. He had a match that night, he needed to focus on winning and keeping his reputation as the champion intact, and not on what Dean had said or where Dean was sleeping that night. What did he care, anyway? He shouldn’t, he _didn’t_ , he had to keep telling himself that.

He was tying up his laces when Cass came up to him, standing above him awkwardly. Seth didn’t know the bigger man well, so he had no idea why he was there. He looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

“I talked to Ambrose, he’s gonna take my spare room,” Cass said without preamble. “Someone said he got the tip from you, and I was looking for a roommate, so I thought I’d give you the heads up.”

Seth stood up from the bench. “I don’t care,” he said. 

Cass chuckled a little and shook his head. “Right. Why would you?”

Seth just huffed. He was so over talking about this. “I got a match,” he said, turning to leave without saying anything else to Cass. 

Seth took a hell of a beating in his match, but he won, and that was what mattered. He made his way back to the locker room after, his music still playing behind him, one arm curled around his ribs which were particularly sore from a bump against the turnbuckle. He turned the corner, and Dean was leaning against the wall, slow clapping at him. 

“The fuck do you want?” Seth demanded, in an even worse mood now even though he’d won. It’d been too close, it made his title look vulnerable, and he hated that. He should have been better. 

“Tick-tock, Rollins,” Dean drawled, tapping an imaginary watch on his bare wrist. “Your time as champ is ticking away.”

“You know what, _fuck you_.” Seth grabbed him by the neck of his t-shirt and shoved him back against the wall. “You’re an _asshole_.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Dean said, amused, holding his hands up innocently but not shoving him away.

The two of them stared at each other in the close proximity, Seth's chest was heaving and Dean had that infuriating smirk on his face. Seth wanted to hit him, but there was also something twisting in his gut at having Dean this close again. It was confusing, and stupid, and Seth _hated_ it.

“You know you can’t beat me,” Seth went on, speaking his language since nothing else seemed to get through to him. Plus he'd rather focus on a match, on their rivalry, than the fact that his heart was pounding. “So either bring it, or get the fuck outta my face.”

He let go of Dean’s collar roughly and Dean just laughed. “There’s that fire I like to see! The champ lives!”

“Fuck you!” Seth called over his shoulder as he stormed away. Not his best comeback, to be sure, but at least it felt good.

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write some FCW-era Ambrollins, and the idea was too big to be a one-shot so you get this. As it goes on I will probably be playing a little fast and loose with the actual timeline because it's hard to figure out accurate continuity based on what videos we actually get of FCW. I just thought post-ironman was the best starting place because FEELS. Thanks for reading this!


End file.
